A king's tale
by Esta
Summary: What pain lies in beauty witnessed by those never to cease, to die? A light tainted by inner darkness king Thranduil lingers on while others pass... Planned as a one-shot but now growing.
1. Chapter 1: A king's tale

**A king's tale of beauty**

It is my doom and my joy to see beauty in everything, in things living and breathing, in things long gone by and perished into nothingness. Beauty in life, beauty in death.

I see the beauty of elves: glittering stars in a darkened world, bright where fear lingers. Never ending, always enduring. The beauty of my kin is a fateful one – bound to witness tragedy and despair, but never to perish.

I see the beauty of mankind, so easily destroyed, so short in days. They are like rare flowers growing on the soil beneath ancient trees. Tiny in their beginning, so easily treat upon, so easily demolished. They blossom in their youth, bright colours dazzle our elven eyes. We are drawn to them like flies to the flame. We burn when one day, so short after, they fall and decline. Their blossoms losing colour first, shrinking and shrivelling until they bend with old age. Still so young. And when they at last return to where they have come from, sighing their last breath, they leave nothing but emptiness on the spot where they once have been. For this is my fate that I see beauty even where it is no more.

Hatred once divided us, mistrust clouded our eyes. But none the less I see beauty even in dwarves, proud warriors carved from stone, iron flowing through their veins. They are like a rough but porous rock cut into form over ages. Glorious when finished, but weathering in time. Like statues they are slowly falling apart with age, they lose the power they once held. Shaken by the forces of their own kind, they crumble piece by piece until one day nothing is left but a memory of what once has been.

Only the elves linger. A constant gleam on the horizon. A light that flickers but never dies. We live. We endure. We see. And even the darkness left by dragon fire cannot blind me, my once seeing eye still remembers the imprint all beauty has left. Blind but seeing. Blind but remembering. For this is the fate of elves, that I see beauty where now only pain resides.

Why does it hurt so much? Because it was true. It is. It will be.


	2. Chapter 2: Dale

**Dale**

I walk through the ruins of Dale and ruined is my heart. Again I wade through the blood of those I hold most dear. I brought them to this fate, so many of my kin slain again. Their beauty perished in mud, tainted with blood of orcs and beasts so vile I will not even think their name.

I walk and my heart weeps. This is what never should be: The death of those immortal, the death of those I love. My kin. My friends. I had vowed to protect them and again I have failed.

Their beauty still resides on their faces, golden hair flowing like immortal crowns around their heads. Some dark strands tell tales of blood and pain. I will not weep but tears are flowing down my soul not lessening the pain I feel.

I know everyone of them by heart, known them for hundreds of years gone by. I remember their songs like rays of light under my ancient trees, I still see them dance like flakes of dust in the sunlight, I hear their laughter like bells ringing of joy. Now all that is left is a distant cry of pain and the moans of those still alive but yet dying. This is my fault. This is my fate.

I have caused this with my greed, my thirst for the richness that lies beneath the mountain. Heirlooms long missed I had craved, beautiful shimmering gems of light. But in my craving I have killed the true light that lives on this earth. My friends. My kin. Will this never end?

My heart burns, and for sure this pain will send sparks into my eyes, my son would know so well. A son still missing. Darkness. Despair. A call I should not, could not give in. Nothing is waiting for me in the Undying Lands, nothing but the knowledge that I gave up on what still resides in my realm: The beauty of my people.

My eyes behold him: A young warrior fallen under a heavy blow. His eyes are cold and no spark left. Oh, I remember these eyes so well. A little elfling he had been not many ages ago, a moonchild, a bearer of the silver light. His eyes the darkest grey but sparkling and glittering like a lake in starlight. Now he is no more. Nothing left but a memory of beauty that once had been.

I know all their names, but dare not to speak them aloud. What is real, what I already know would feel more so with every name I spoke. Death is upon us. More death than I could drown in wine I so long for.

Why does it hurt so much? I have – this time – no answer to give but a silent tear and a helpless sigh leaving my lips.

I know not.


	3. Chapter 3: Mirror

**Mirror**

I walk along the lake but I find no peace, no rest. War will be upon us, a shadow lingers at my borders. Darkness seeps in. I can feel it with every breath I take, it hurts in my lungs, makes my head spin like no dark wine could. And I fear, I fear so much. Everything lies in shadows again and old scars come forth. Burning fire. Molten flesh. I look into the clear water and what I see is a mask barely hiding all those horrors imprinted in my soul. My skin.

In ancient times, in years I do no longer remember I had looked into the mirror and seen a proud young man, his face a beauty not to be compared with any Sindar walking this earth. I was well aware of my own beauty. Too aware. Too proud and too vain.

Proud I am still but there is no vanity left. My beauty is destroyed from within. Blades may cut our skin and we will heal. Scars will fade. But not those left by dragon fire. The searing pain cuts deep into an Elven's soul, destroys everything that lies on its path. I nearly died. I wanted to die. Still do at times. No more. No more.

I fought the great serpents in the War of Wrath, I fought, I survived. But I no longer live. I remember my father's cries and his words beseeching me to stay, not to go, not to give in. I scream. Even today I scream in my sleep when the dragon strikes again. I feel my skin melting, my muscles burn and my blackened bones crumble. I feel cold Elvish hands weaving magic into my broken body. I remember. I remember. I wish I would not.

I look into the water and it mirrors back my face, stricken with grief. My mask has slipped and I can no longer hide. Burned flesh, burned skin. A hollow face. I dare not look closer because I fear for my sanity. This is not me. Is it?

Why does it hurt so much?

My soul is marred. My soul is burned. My soul weeps. Too much pain for an immortal to bear.


	4. Chapter 4: My Queen

**My queen**

I still remember your face, your smile gracing your soft features. I remember how I first laid my eyes upon you, a young maiden barely blossomed. I saw you dancing on the meadow, your feet touching the ground like leaves in the wind. Your laughter a melody to your dance. A tune I do remember so well. I remember. And my heart leaps. In pain. In longing. For it is no more and no more will it be. There is nothing left of you, no body, no grave. You disappeared into darkness to never be found again.

No ship took you to Valinor, no grace brought you peace. You are gone and my longing stays. I cannot leave this world, never when there is still a glimmer of hope buried deep in my soul. A glimmer that sometime, anytime I will behold you once more. Even if it is you in a broken form, a shell of your former glory. Only to see you, to feel you… I want to hold your body like I embrace the memory that lives on in your son. Our son. Beloved. Beloved.

I remember how small your feet were, how glowing your skin. Delicate hands held flowers so bright it matched your pale grey eyes. Golden hair like rays of sunshine lightening my heart: For hours I stood mesmerized. Watching you. Barely able to breathe. Barely containing the wish to touch you. I had never wanted anything so desperately as I had longed to touch your face, to kiss the lips that promised so much sweetness.

I remember your taste, grapes ripened in a late summer sun. I can still taste it in the most sweet of wines I so adore these days. I see how they look at me because I drink too much, not out of despair, not out of joy but to remember. I drink a draught to find peace with you again. Your kisses imprinted in my mind. Dearest. Beloved. Queen of mine. I drink another sip out of my glass and I say a toast in your name.

Do not leave me again for my days are dark since we parted. I have let statues baring your resemblance be overgrown with ivy not to be reminded of what has become of my life. No one but me will be allowed to witness your soft features any longer. Legolas does not remember. I see the questions in his eyes, questions I cannot answer. I told him you had died to protect him, but I lied. For nothing is sure and all is lost. You are gone never to be found. I searched and searched. I despaired. I lingered on. All is lost but here I am. A king without a queen. And soon a father without a son. One day Legoslas will leave with all the others of our kin, but I will not.

I will never leave this earth without you. I will rather die, I will rather despair than to leave without the one I had loved more dearly than everything a kingdom has to offer.

Where are you my queen? Where have you gone? Where is your body? Where resides your soul? My queen. My companion.

Why does it hurt so much? Drowning in hurtful contempt I dare not think about the pain others might have inflicted upon you. My dearest soul. I dare not because I fear for my mind, insanity lies in midst these thoughts. Dearest. Beloved. Queen of mine.


End file.
